


so many times it happens too fast

by carrieevew



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Clarke is bad at feelings, F/M, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Miscommunication, and so is bellamy, the rating is mainly a precaution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-25 11:40:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30088524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carrieevew/pseuds/carrieevew
Summary: “Listen, we are good friends, we do know each other well,” she counted off with her fingers. “We’re both clear on what we want and we agree that it won’t lead to anything more. We do find each other attractive,” Clarke cocked her head sideways in question which Bellamy answered with a nod of confirmation. “It’s perfect!” [...]Bellamy blinked. “It sounds like a bad movie plot. And a recipe for disaster.”Bellarke in a friends-with-benefits arrangement because they are too old for random hook-ups but also suck at feelings.
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin
Comments: 15
Kudos: 126
Collections: The t100 Writers for BLM Initiative





	so many times it happens too fast

**Author's Note:**

> written for a prompt submitted through the t100 fic for Black Lives Matter initiative. for more information about the project, visit [our carrd](https://t100fic-for-blm.carrd.co/) or [our tumblr](https://t100fic-for-blm.tumblr.com/).
> 
> title from _[Eye of the Tiger](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=btPJPFnesV4)_ by Survivor.
> 
> also special thanks to Zouzou for all the sprints and encouragement :-)
> 
> enjoy!

Clarke’s head was pounding.

She would’ve loved to blame it on the alcohol but the one and only glass of wine she had that night was still half-full and slowly growing warmer in her hand, killing the taste.

It wasn’t even the music in the bar, not much louder than usual, or the never-ending stream of words coming from her companion, dull as it was.

It was just— _everything_.

Clarke hated even thinking that, but somehow, turning 30 changed something in her and it took her by surprise. And it annoyed her.

It hadn’t been _that long_ since she’d last went out with her friends, got drunk and picked up a random stranger for a night of entertainment with no strings attached. It hadn’t been that long since she enjoyed that rush of meeting someone, either. All throughout her twenties, it was the easiest thing—she was confident, decisive and quite fricking hot, thank you very much; and with a couple of spectacular misses at serious relationships under her belt, it was also the safest bet in order to just get her rocks off without getting her heart broken in the process. It worked.

But now that Clarke was _thirty_ , it was just exhausting.

Sterling was nice enough—cute smile, proper manners when he offered to buy her a drink, and at the very least, he seemed like he might have stamina. But when he came by, Clarke was already sipping on her drink, hoping to chase away the oncoming headache and instead of her usual moves, she tried to have a conversation, just to see what might happen. Only the guy took it like he’d been invited for speed dating. In the last fifteen minutes, he managed to give her an abridged version of his entire personal and professional life, as well as deliver a handful of painfully blunt attempts at flirting.

Not so long ago, Clarke would’ve completely ignored the fact they had absolutely nothing in common, batted her eyelashes at him and took the guy home, hoping he’d shut up once he realised he was about to score.

Now, she just needed to leave.

Clarke wrapped her hand around the phone in her jacket pocket and yanked it out, pretending to read an inexistent message with rapt attention.

“I’m so sorry,” she interrupted Sterling mid-sentence, only feeling slightly bad at his disappointed expression. “My friend needs me, I gotta run,” she said, putting down her glass. She slid off the stool, adjusted her skirt and scanned over the crowd, looking for Gabriel, somewhere in the crowd. For all that Josephine had the personality to fill up any room, he was the one easier to spot—if he was still there.

Clarke rolled her eyes, realising her friends must’ve left without saying goodbye when they saw her with someone. Either that or they were getting busy in the bar bathroom, it was always a toss-up with those two.

Still, Clarke sent a quick text to Josie, telling her that she was going home, just for the sake of it. If Sterling had any brains whatsoever, he must’ve seen through her weak excuse but as she looked back at him on her way out of the bar, he was already talking to the woman sitting on his other side and all of Clarke’s guilt had dissolved.

And so did her headache, the further she got away from the stuffy, hot, crowded bar.

She was too old for this shit.

Clarke wasn’t even all that surprised when she realised, already halfway there, that in her attempt to walk off her bad mood, she found herself on her way to Bellamy’s. There was just something about him that kept her centred and boy, if she was feeling old, he was a damn pensioner. That always made her feel better.

When Clarke reached his building, she glanced up to see if he was still awake, not wanting to bother him otherwise, and huffed in relief, seeing that the lights in his living room were on. She let herself into the building, the fact that she knew the code giving her the usual warm and cuddly feeling inside—something that she steadfastly ignored, of course.

Bellamy opened his door in an old Ark U t-shirt, pyjama bottoms and glasses, and Clarke’s eyes twitched when the not unfamiliar wave of attraction hit her.

It wasn’t a new thought, this realisation that she was attracted to Bellamy. They’d known each other for over a decade and Clarke was self-aware enough to figure out that she had the hots for him. But recently, she found herself considering acting out on those feelings and that _was_ new. But she didn’t dare even wonder if there was any relation between that and her recent lack of interest in random hook-ups. Some things were better left alone.

“Should I assume this means you’ve struck out again?” Bellamy asked in lieu of a greeting.

Clarke sent his a sour grimace and stepped inside, hip-checking him on her way in.

“Striking out would imply that I tried,” she countered. “And I just—“ she waved her hand weakly. But Bellamy nodded his head in understanding and without a word he stepped into his kitchen for a glass and the bottle of her favourite white he kept in stock especially for her.

Clarke took a big gulp, ignoring how the same wine tasted so much better here than it did at the bar and took a seat on Bellamy’s couch, picking up his remote.

Bellamy joined her and gestured at the remote, giving her the choice of what they would watch. Clarke noticed that the documentary he had on had only just started, so she re-started it and put the remote down. In the corner of her eye, she saw Bellamy duck his head to hide a smile and a faint blush blossomed at her cheeks. She ignored that as well.

***

The next time Josephine called to invite her over to the bar, Clarke mumbled something about a long and exhausting day at work and declined. Bellamy had invited her over to watch the second part of the documentary and while her 20-year-old-self snorted at the very thought of spending a Friday evening with ancient Romans and Greeks—and not the oiled-all-over kind, Clarke still chose that over a bunch of strangers.

It boggled her mind sometimes, how her friendship with Bellamy even happened in the first place. Clarke had always known that she’s wasn’t the easiest person to get along with, given how stubborn, controlling, emotionally stunted she could be and for the longest time, her friendships had mostly been proximity-based. She could find something in common with people she would spend most of her time with and they’d grow close over the time but once they were no longer made to associate, they’d drift apart. It’s what happened with her childhood best friends Wells until they reconnected at one of her mother’s functions, then later with the people she used to hang out in college. It was how she met Josephine, who worked at the same bio lab as Clarke.

Relationships in general were hard for Clarke, romantic, familial, whichever. And to some extent, she was always a little amazed when a connection survived the loss of shared environment.

But of all those people Clarke could never figure out how she managed to keep, Bellamy had always been the most amazingly unexpected one for sure. Mostly because they’d been fighting over everything from the very first moment they met, so much so that Clarke practically walked herself into traffic during one of those fights and it was only thanks to Bellamy’s quick reflexes and strong grip that she hadn’t been run over by an oncoming bus.

If finding some shared interests with Wells, whom she hadn’t talked to for almost fifteen years, was great, growing close to Bellamy was unbelievable. He was that always angry prick who kept calling her a princess, smirking at her like he had her figured out after one minute. How that evolved into her falling asleep on his couch while some movie she didn’t give a hoot about was playing in the background, she considered it a minor miracle.

But there she was, eleven years after their first disastrous meeting, with her feet in his lap, a fluffy blanket around her and a feeling of safety and contentment inside her.

Clarke didn’t even notice when she slipped from the brink of consciousness, the next thing she knew, Bellamy had his hand wrapped around her ankle and was jostling it lightly to wake her up.

Clarke blinked awake, sitting up. She looked around and stretched with a groan, her joints popping.

“Welcome back to the land of the living, grandma,” Bellamy said, grinning.

“Need I remind you that you’re five years older than me?” she hummed. “If I’m grandma, you’re—as old as time.” Clarke kicked him in the thigh lightly, but before she could take her leg away, Bellamy caught her foot and trapped it against his leg, smirking triumphantly, as if she didn’t know that all she had to do to set herself free was give him the lightest of tugs.

“Not that I don’t appreciate your snoring company,” Bellamy continued, ignoring her comment, “but when I invited you over, I didn’t exactly expect you to say yes.”

Clarke’s eyebrows shot up.

“Uhm—not that I—I mean, you’re welcome here, obviously,” he backtracked, his cheeks gaining some colour. “I just thought you’d go out with Josephine again,” he explained, eyebrows pinched in a sign of confusion.

Clarke sighed and sat up straight, rubbing a hand over her face.

“It will hardly help with my grandma image but I just can’t do that anymore,” she said tiredly.

Bellamy looked at her in silence, waiting for her to go on and for the first time, Clarke found herself saying it all out loud.

“I just thought, you know, that I’d have it all figured out by 30,” she said. “When I was in high school, I was so sure that I’d have a steady job by now, I’d be married and have some kids—“

“Like your mother always told you to,” Bellamy interjected and the corner of Clarke’s lips twitched up, almost smiling. Back when they first met, a comment like that would’ve led them into an all-out battle because he’d be condescending and she’d be touchy. But now they knew better. _She_ knew that it wasn’t inflammatory anymore.

“Yeah,” she confirmed. “And I haven’t got any of that. I’ve only been doing this job for a couple of years and I still have doubts about it. And don’t even get me started on the family!”

Bellamy took her hand in his and squeezed her fingers quickly in reassurance.

“Do you want one now?” he asked.

Clarke stood up, throwing the blanket down on the couch.

“I don’t even know that! All I know is that I suck at relationships and I don’t want to start something just for the sake of it. But I don’t want to be completely alone, either. I like sex, I like the momentary company, just not—“ she sighed. “Does that make sense?” she looked at Bellamy expectantly, not even sure what she wanted from him. How could he know that, if she couldn’t figure it out?

But then, he nodded. “Yeah, it does.”

Bellamy shifted in his seat and looked straight at her. 

“You want someone you can trust, who you feel comfortable around but who won’t expect a commitment you’re not ready for. Something that no-one you meet at a bar for a night could ever give you,” he said simply and Clarke’s jaw snapped open because somehow, he was able to put into words what she couldn’t name.

“You’ve thought about it before,” she summed up, with a hint of surprise in her tone.

Bellamy glanced at her quickly, as if to check for something. “You could say that. Why do you think I didn’t go back to hooking up after Echo and I broke up? When that relationship ended, I realised that the one-night-stands wouldn’t work for me anymore. Doesn’t mean that I lost interest in everything.”

Clarke deflated and dropped back down onto the couch. “So basically, we’re both horny and pathetic.”

Bellamy snorted. “I choose to think it’s self-awareness,” he countered, bumping his shoulders against hers with a shy smile. “It’s not a bad thing to want to be close to someone you care about.”

“I know that,” she huffed, a little exasperated. But she wasn’t annoyed with Bellamy, just—everything.

“Believe me, I want that, too,” Bellamy assured her. “I got tired of going over the same song and dance every time I want to have some fun and blow off some steam. It would be nice to be with someone who won’t expect anything too serious, who won’t complain if I snore and knows how I take my coffee in the morning. You know, like you,” he added flippantly.

And if Clarke’s eyebrows were raised before, they were probably one with her hairline by then. And her expression must’ve been enough to alert him to the meaning of his words because all of a sudden, his face turned almost scarlet and he swallowed thickly.

“Well, you know, not _you_ , specifically,” he backtracked, stuttering.

Clarke leaned against the side of the couch and pursed her lips into a smug smirk. “Oh? And why not me, exactly?” she asked faux-innocently. “Am I not hot enough for you?”

Bellamy’s eye twitched and he blanched, lips moving wordlessly.

“Clarke,” he let out a half-strangled yelp and she just couldn’t keep it up any longer.

Clarke laughed out loud, snorting inelegantly.

“Ah, so that’s how it is,” Bellamy blew a raspberry. “Can we just start over?”

But Clarke shook her head. “Nah, I rather enjoyed watching you squirm,” she teased.

Bellamy rolled his eyes and muttered something about her being an asshole, which okay, fair. But Clarke wasn’t paying that much attention, the gears inside her head turning already.

“Why not me, though?” she asked, genuinely curious.

“Clarke, come on,” Bellamy groaned and sent her a flat look.

But she was onto something there. Clarke shifted onto her knees and leaned closer so that their faces were only an arm’s length away.

“Listen, we _are_ good friends, we do know each other well,” she counted off with her fingers. “We’re both clear on what we want and we agree that it won’t lead to anything more. We do find each other attractive,” Clarke cocked her head sideways in question which Bellamy answered with a nod of confirmation. “It’s perfect!”

“So, what you’re saying is, we utilise each other to take care of our urges and help each other scratch an itch.”

“Well, you don’t have to make sound so crude but essentially, yes.”

Bellamy blinked. “It sounds like a bad movie plot. And a recipe for disaster.”

Clarke clicked her tongue and shook her head with a sour expression. “Oh, don’t be so dramatic,” she said, sitting on her heels. “We’ve known each for years. If we were to tragically fall in love with each other, we would’ve done it already.”

When Bellamy just kept staring at her, Clarke felt herself losing her nerve. It was a crazy idea, of course it was. But somehow, that’s exactly why she thought it was a good one. All she’d said was true and, though she only admitted it to herself at her drunkest, she sometimes wondered what it would be like to be with Bellamy for real. How it would be like to be in a relationship with someone who truly cared for her and didn’t subscribe to the ‘emotional blackmail’ method of loving.

And arrangement like the one she proposed would’ve been ideal. All the benefits of having someone without the inevitable heartbreak that seemed to plague all of her romances.

Still, if Bellamy didn’t feel the same way about it, then she’d just made an idiot of herself and possible broke something between them and that some simply unthinkable.

Clarke swallowed, looking at Bellamy, expecting the worst. But his expression changed.

She knew his face, knew all of his expressions as if she were seeing them in the mirror each morning. He was thinking about it seriously. Propelled by new hope, Clarke leaned in even closer and smiled at him in challenge.

“Unless you don’t think you can keep up with me, granddad,” she teased, wiggling her eyebrows.

Bellamy scoffed, put his hand around the back of her neck and pulled her in.

“Oh, come here, damn it. I’m gonna show you—“

***

Clarke woke up feeling warmer than she had for a very long time and her first instinct was to burrow as deep into that warmth as possible and never leave.

Followed quickly by a second, much more awake instinct to panic when she realised it was all coming from a solid body lying next to her. She stiffened and then rolled away, swatting at her face to brush her hair away.

“Regretting it already?” she heard Bellamy say with amusement, and then his fingers tucked some of the hair behind her ear and she was able to see him more clearly.

He was squinting at her with a smile on his face and for a split second, she almost forgot that they were naked.

Because she had sex with Bellamy.

Her good friend Bellamy.

Her _very_ good friend, who made her come three times last night, so hard that her ears were ringing.

“No,” she answered with a small whine and buried her face back into the pillow.

Her bravado last night made her forgo all reason, not just because she practically jumped him but also proposed a friends-with-benefits arrangement that somehow made sense when she explained it. But in the light of day, it was a whole different story. There were a million ways that this could go wrong and—

“It couldn’t have been that bad,” Bellamy interrupted her train of thought. He spoke lightly but Clarke could hear the strain in his voice. He really suspected that she didn’t enjoy it.

“You know that it wasn’t,” she said, turning onto her back, the duvet wrapped tightly around her.

Bellamy sat up and took her hand, tugging gently to get her attention. Clarke followed the motion into a sitting position, arms holding up the duvet. It was a strange moment to be modest, after spending half the night shouting obscenities, but what about this situation wasn’t.

“Clarke, this doesn’t have to be anything,” he said, reassuring. “We don’t have to through with the arrangement if you don’t want to.”

“But you want to, right?”

“That’s not really important, I’m—“

Clarke groaned and let out a resigned chuckle. There was no way he was actually real.

She looked at Bellamy and huffed.

“Rule number one, if we’re doing this, you’re gonna be telling me what you want,” Clarke announced, her confidence coming back. She always felt better with bickering that emotions. “None of that sacrificial, chivalrous bullshit where you just go with it to make me happy.”

Bellamy grinned and she could see the faint shadow of hope come across his face.

“So, we are doing it?”

“Yes,” she agreed. “ _If_ you want to,” Clarke added, raising her finger, as if in warning. It’s not that she actually believed Bellamy would’ve slept with her in the first place if he didn’t want to but one could never overdo it with asking for consent.

Bellamy rolled her eyes but when Clarke raised her eyebrows expectantly, he did say ‘yes’ out loud.

“Great, now we make the rules,” she announced and promptly ignored Bellamy’s snort, knowing that him laughing was not meant to be mocking. He knew that that Clarke liked the order those rules would bring.

“First one is established,” Clarke spoke over his chuckling. “Second, we’re exclusive but if we meet someone we’re interested in, we just tell each other and there won’t be any hard feelings.” She raised her eyebrows and tucked her chin in, waiting for an answer and after Bellamy nodded in agreement, she continued, “and we don’t tell anyone.”

“Should I feel wounded that you want me to be your dirty little secret?” Bellamy joked.

Leaning against the headboard, Clarke cocked one eyebrow.

“Oh, you can tell whoever the hell you want,” she promised with a slightly condescending tone. “Just make sure that _I_ don’t have to answer any of the prying questions or deal with the judgemental comments.” She sent him a knowing look and Bellamy’s face fell at the realisation.

“Right,” he muttered, rubbing his forehead and swiping his fringe away from his eyes.

It’s not that Clarke wanted to keep it from their friends but damn, they were one hell of a nosy bunch. She had no doubt that each and every one of them would have something to say about the fact that they were sleeping together and Clarke wasn’t particularly interested in hearing any of it.

Mainly because, truth be told, they were mostly Bellamy’s friends. He was the reason why the group grew close and stayed together after college and while Clarke liked them she also had no doubt that if she was no longer a part of Bellamy’s life, none of them would seek her out.

Well, Harper and Monty might. Emori probably wouldn’t pretend they didn’t know each other if they met on the street and even Murphy might like an occasional Instagram post. But they were all firmly in Bellamy’s camp and should anything go wrong, they wouldn’t hesitate to take his side. Especially Raven, whom Clarke was only ever on agreeable terms if they both had a good day. It was understandable, given their history, but it made Clarke all the less enthusiastic about sharing any personal details with the woman. So it was just easier to keep the arrangement on the down low.

Still, she couldn’t quite tell all that to Bellamy and blaming their nosiness would have to do.

Once again, it was clear the Clarke Griffin suck at any and all relationships. Of any kind. Great.

Bellamy tapped her knee lightly, giving her that soft look that Clarke both hated and loved about him. That look that said he knew that she got stuck in her own head and wanted her to know that he was there for her. The look she didn’t always feel she deserved from him, couldn’t ever believe she knew how to reciprocate.

“The rules are good,” he said, bringing them back to their original conversation. “I just have one question.”

Clarke nodded for him to go on.

“Everything else between us stays the same? Cause the Dalí Exhibition is coming in a couple of weeks and I may have already pre-ordered some tickets—“

Before he was finished with the sentence, Clarke bolted upright and released a strangled yelp.

“And you’re only telling me this _now_?!” she gasped in faux outrage but there was no way she could keep the image up, not when her eyes were surely sparkling.

The duvet fell away from her body and pooled around her waist when Clarke, full of excitement, shuffled around the bed and landed right next to Bellamy, her hands resting on his thigh. Bellamy’s eyes lit up with mischief and his arms gather Clarke around her waist.

“What are you gonna do about it?”

With little effort he dragged her over so that she ended up straddling his legs, the covers long forgotten. He was still grinning at her and Clarke ground down against him purposefully. She huffed in triumph when his expression faltered and his fingers dug into her waist but it wasn’t for long. With his hands holding her firmly in place, Bellamy slid down the bed quickly and at the surprise of suddenly becoming vertical, Clarke landed on top of him.

Bellamy wasted no time—he put one hand at the back of her neck and pulled her in for a filthy kiss, wrapped the other arm around her back and rolled them over so that he was covering her whole.

Retaliating, Clarke pinched his sensitive side, breaking the kiss. Bellamy froze above her but only for a moment. He was still smirking at her like an asshole but there was something softer in his eyes now.

Before Clarke could make another move, something nagging she couldn’t name came over her and chipped at her confidence. But she didn’t get to dwell on the feeling for too long because as if on cue, Bellamy leaned in to kiss her worries away.

***

For the longest time afterwards, Clarke waited for things to go wrong. She thought they’d slip up in front of their friends or that they’d get tired of each other and it would get awkward. Or that something else would happen that would fuck them up in an yet undiscovered manner. But it didn’t.

Weeks passed, and then months, and it was still good.

Chiefly because in some way, not much had changed. Clarke still went out with Josie sometime, though without the mission of finding someone, the appeal of those excursions was nearly gone. She still joined their friends for a drink, and she and Bellamy still chased after every new museum and gallery exhibition that they could swing, basking in the passion that brought them together in the first place.

The only difference was, they no longer had to face the possibility of wasting an evening on mediocre sex and no chemistry. With Bellamy, it was always— _fun_ , and that was a new experience for Clarke. She was used to passionate and ecstatic and oh, Bellamy had plenty of that to offer. But Clarke never expected that she could laugh so much in bed. Joke when he rolled off of her and off the bed. Take a crack at his expense and not have it kill the mood.

Most of all, she never expected for this to go so smoothly. After all, nothing ever did between them. But this was almost easy. Going in, she already knew what to expect—that Bellamy had his weird little habits, that they’d have to deal with each other’s bad moods and random disagreements. Yet even with all that, what they had was comfortable. Safe. Caring.

There were no girlfriends that Bellamy may have forgotten to break up with, no angles he might try to play or expectations about declarations she wasn’t ready for. They took each other as they were and just went with it. Just two friends who liked each other and enjoyed keeping each other’s neighbours up at night.

It may have been Clarke’s idea in the first place but no-one could’ve been more surprised than her that it was working. She had a good friend to keep her company, a good man to trust with herself and a damn fantastic lover to keep her satisfied. Even if it was all causal fun, it felt like she had everything.

***

Clarke chuckled at the string of _Vikings_ memes that Bellamy had been sending her throughout the day. He was one of those people who refused to engage with a show until it was over, so that he could see if it’d be worth it but once he was in, he was _all in_ —and he dragged Clarke down along with him.

Clearly, the hour he had scheduled in the middle of the day was not being utilised for grading, like Bellamy had planned to do.

Clarke smiled to herself at the thought of Bellamy getting lost in the rabbit hole of memes and, distracted, she didn’t even notice someone had approached her until she heard the voice in front of her, way too close for comfort.

“That must be one hilarious joke,” Cillian said, making her jump. He pointed at her phone and Clarke’s eyes followed his motion thoughtlessly, not quite getting what he was talking about.

“Excuse me?”

The smile on Cillian’s face faltered and he cleared his throat, regretting his choice of an opening line. “I just meant, whatever you read made you smile like I’ve never seen before,” he explained lightly.

Once again, Clarke looked down at her phone, processing. The messages from Bellamy were amusing and she did laugh. But what made her smile was, well, Bellamy himself.

He’d been doing that a lot lately.

Clarke looked up, not sure how to respond. She just hummed noncommittally but Cillian kept on looking at her expectantly.

“It’s just something silly from a friend,” she followed up, shrugging.

“So, not a boyfriend, girlfriend?” Cillian’s eyebrows jumped up and his tone was hopeful. “Cause if it’s not, then I was thinking, maybe you’d like to go out with me and grab a drink?”

“Uhm,” Clarke stuttered, surprised. Not by the invitation per se, Cillian had been semi-flirty with her ever since he starting working at the lab a few weeks back and at the back of her head, Clarke kind of suspected he might be interested in something more than just killing time during coffee breaks.

The surprising part was that every fibre of her body seemed to rebel against the idea of confirming that Bellamy wasn’t her boyfriend. It was the fucking truth and yet, after nearly six months of hooking up with Bellamy, she’d clearly lost a bit of grip on the situation. And more than anything, she was annoyed with it. The whole point of their arrangement was avoiding relationships and keeping each other entertained until they met someone they liked.

And Clarke kinda liked Cillian. He was nice, good-looking and never once said anything offensive, claiming that it was just a joke. For a first date, that was absolutely good enough. So why the hell she was still hesitating?

Her phone buzzed in her hand and even without looking, Clarke knew that it was Bellamy again, if not sending her another meme, then reminding her that it was her turn to pick up dinner. Because they were having dinners together regularly enough to have a schedule. Because Clarke had grown complacent.

“Clarke?” Cillian asked, bringing her out of her head. He looked doubtful and it made Clarke grit her teeth in annoyance.

“Yes,” she shot out, huffing.

Cillian’s lips twitched and she realised that she probably needed to say more.

“I am not in a relationship,” she said slowly, something twisting in her gut. It was the honest truth and yet saying it like that made her feel like she was avoiding a wicked spell. All the more reason to go out into the world and remind herself that she wasn’t actually dating Bellamy. “I would love to get a drink with you,” she added with a smile. A genuine one. “Friday?”

***

Agreeing to a date with Cillian was a good first step to reclaiming control. An even better next one would be to adhere to her own rules and tell Bellamy about it. Especially since the very thought of doing so almost made her call after Cillian and cancel after all.

When Netflix paused itself to check if they were still alive, Clarke figured it would be the perfect opportunity. Bellamy went over to the kitchen to clear out their plates and when he came back with a couple of beers, she knew she would only be looking for excuses.

“So,” she started, a little too loudly, stopping him from starting the episode. “I have a date on Friday.”

Bellamy froze with his beer halfway to his mouth.

“Oh,” he said. And then, after a beat, “cool.”

Clarke blinked. That was very understanding of him. Very— _casual_. She probably shouldn’t be so surprised by it—or ticked off. Right?

“It’s a guy from work,” she added and Bellamy just nodded his head.

“Does that mean this is over?” he asked, motioning between them with his hand.

Clarke swallowed, feeling like someone had hit her over the back of her head.

“I— _no_?”

Bellamy sent her a confused but amused look that sent a bolt of irritation through Clarke and it only made her more annoyed with herself. What the hell was wrong with her? Her fuck buddy was asking a simple, valid question about the future of their deal and she was—what? Hurt, jealous? This wasn’t a fucking break-up and she should know better than treat it like one.

Her hands furled into fists at her sides as she stared at Bellamy who was still looking at her with patience. Clarke dug her fingernails into the palms of her hands in order to get her head straight and focus.

“It’s just one date,” she said, trying for the same easy tone. “It’s nothing serious yet, so if you don’t mind, we can just keep things as they are and then, we’ll—see.”

Something flickered across Bellamy’s face when she spoke but it was gone before Clarke had a chance to name it. He looked at her for a moment without a word and then, he just muttered ‘ _okay’_ and pressed play on the remote.

The opening music startled Clarke. She rubbed a hand over her face and leaned back, shifting her focus from Bellamy to the screen.

It hit her, all of a sudden, this urge to talk to someone about what was going on. To tell someone that she wasn’t just losing sight of the nature of her deal with Bellamy but that she sometimes found herself considering what it would be like to try with him for real. Bellamy was her best friend and they loved each other, she knew that for sure. They were good together and she was genuinely happy with him.

She wanted to tell someone that she was also terrifyingly certain that the reason things were going so well was exactly because they weren’t really together. That the moment they make things official, she’d find a way to fuck it all up and lose him, like she always did.

She wanted to scream, just a little, because there was no way in hell that Bellamy felt the same way. He wasn’t even sure about hooking up with her, until she’d promised to keep things simple and without any strings.

Clarke wanted more than anything to say all that to someone and maybe, it would at least help her sort this shit out in her head.

The only problem was, the one person she felt comfortable to talk to about anything like that was—Bellamy.

***

“So, how was the date?” Bellamy asked over the phone. His voice sounded strange but how else it could’ve been, with both their phones on speaker and him in a car, speeding down the motorway.

Clarke dipped her brush in paint and added a little more colour to her painting, humming.

“It was—nice,” she finally decided on. Clarke wasn’t sure about talking to Bellamy about Cillian but it helped that she couldn’t see him. It was easier to pretend she wasn’t literally counting down hours until Bellamy was back from his sister’s.

Bellamy chuckled over the phone and it sounded like he was drowning.

“Nice is a kiss of death, Clarke,” he said and she could practically see Bellamy’s smirk.

“Well, it was,” she argued petulantly. And she actually meant it.

Cillian took her to decent club with good music, paid for their drinks and didn’t even grab at her that much when they were dancing. Clarke enjoyed herself the whole time but when he leaned in to kiss her at the end of the night, she pulled away. She also said ‘no’ when he tried to ask her out again. And Cillian was still—nice.

“There was just no spark, you know?” Clarke said when she finished relaying the evening to Bellamy. “I had fun but it didn’t feel very date-y. More like an evening out with a colleague.”

For a moment, the only sounds on the line were the engine noise of Bellamy’s car and air rushing by. She imagined he was nodding his head, though, digesting what she’d said.

“Yeah, I get it,” he finally agreed. “But it’s good to get yourself out there, right?” Bellamy asked and there it was again, that lilt at the end of the sentence, like he was making sure to keep his voice steady. Clarke had only ever heard it when Bellamy spoke to Octavia and he was trying to rein himself in to avoid a confrontation.

Maybe the visit didn’t go very well after all. Bellamy had taken two days off work specifically so that he could see his sister on her birthday and said it was all good last time Clarke had talked to him but he was still driving back home on a Saturday morning, so who knew.

Clarke made a mental note to ask him about it once he came by and only then did she focus on what Bellamy had actually said.

Was it good to get out there? The date wasn’t exactly a success but only a part of it was because she didn’t hit it off with Cillian. Another was that she couldn’t stop comparing him to Bellamy. The club wasn’t what Bellamy would’ve chosen, dancing wasn’t what he would’ve proposed. The whole night was so starkly un-Bellamy that she couldn’t help but draw comparisons at every turn. And then she had to remind herself that she wasn’t actually _dating_ Bellamy.

So—

“It was alright,” she confirmed.

Clarke picked up another colour and put the brush against the canvas, focusing on another detail and for a long moment, the two of them were silent, the noise on Bellamy’s side the only indicator that the call was still live.

It wasn’t unusual for the two of them. Bellamy didn’t like driving alone, preferred to have someone to talk to and make sure that he stayed awake. He hardly ever talked about his father but it wasn’t that hard to figure out that the fact that his dad died in a car crash when Bellamy was still a baby had something to do with his dislike.

For the longest time, Bellamy didn’t have a lot of reasons to travel far on his own but ever since Octavia moved a couple of hundred kilometres away, it was either that or not seeing her as often as he’d like. Clarke didn’t even hesitate to offer her own company—in spirit. He’d call her the moment he got into the car and they stayed connected for the whole drive. It wasn’t uncommon for them to go silent for long periods of time during those drives but she knew that what counted was knowing that she was there.

And it’s not like Clarke had any trouble yapping her head off most of the time. Her dad used to take her on work trips all the time when she was little for the very same reason.

“Clarke?” Bellamy broke the silence and she looked at the phone, wishing she could see him.

She hummed in an answer and heard a long exhale on the other side.

“Did I tell you about what the seniors wanted to organise for prom this year?”

Yes, he did. Twice already.

She smiled to herself, her fingers wrapping tighter around the brush, itching to take Bellamy’s hand instead.

“Nah, go on.”

***

Clarke wished she could say that things went back to normal after her date with Cillian but that would imply that the situation before was normal—and she started to suspect that it was anything but. Normal was before she knew how it felt to wake up wrapped up in Bellamy’s arms, before she discovered that maybe she actually was a cuddler. Normal was leaving before the sheets had cooled down and pretending not to hear when they asked her for her number. Normal was the opposite of getting pried out of bed with breakfast and kisses.

But that was what her arrangement with Bellamy settled into—they had sex, they stayed over and Clarke was finding it harder and harder to convince herself that it didn’t mean they were dating. Still though, when the cute new barista at the coffee shop wrote her number on Clarke’s cup, Clarke didn’t call.

But maybe she wasn’t getting ahead of herself with Bellamy after all? They’d agreed that what they had wasn’t a romantic relationship but maybe it didn’t have to matter? Who cares what they call it if they’re both enjoying it and are happy with the situation? They had no expectation, there was no pressure and neither one of them wanted out, as far as Clarke could tell.

Did she really have to call Bellamy her boyfriend and put a label on them, if what they had was more stable than any other relationship she had before? The fact that no-one even looked at them funny every time they went home together seemed to be further proof that sleeping together didn’t visibly change anything so maybe Clarke should stop overthinking it and just enjoy herself.

Or maybe, just maybe, that burning desire to claim him as hers in any way possible whenever someone else even looked at him should be examined before it all blew up in their faces.

***

“Clarke, come on, people are waiting for us,” Bellamy urged, poking her with his elbow.

They were both on the couch in Bellamy’s flat and Clarke was lying half on top of him, swaddled in a blanket and nearly falling asleep after a long day at work. Frankly, the last thing she wanted to do was go out to a bar and see anyone but Raven apparently insisted that she had a surprise for them all, so Bellamy wanted to go.

Clarke just groaned and pulled the blanked further over her head.

“Princess, come on.”

Clarke peeked out from under the blanket and saw a pleading expression on his face that melted her resistance. She threw the covers away and straightened up.

“You know as well as I do that _people_ are waiting for you,” she muttered, too tired to mince her words. But Bellamy frowned like he didn’t understand what she was talking about and it startled her into a somewhat more awakened state.

Clarke unwrapped her hair from the loose bun and brushed through it with her fingers. Without looking at Bellamy she exhaled. “Raven invited you, Bellamy. They simply don’t mind that I tag along.”

Was that too bitter?

She tied her hair back into a bun, hopefully a slightly more presentable one, and looked at Bellamy who just stared at her in stunned silence. Something snapped inside of Clarke just then. Did he seriously _not_ notice the constant distance between Clarke and the rest of the group?

“That’s not—“ he started, tucking his chin into his chest. “Of course you’re invited, they’re our friends, they want to see you.”

Clarke stood up and turned around to look back at Bellamy who seemed genuinely confused. She opened her mouth to speak, maybe even snort at the statement but she stopped herself.

Was it possible that he really didn’t see it?

Or was it her who maybe had an unrealistic idea of a friend group straight out of television, who never drifted apart and spent all their time together throughout the years? They weren’t 19 anymore, each of them had their own life and maybe it was unreasonable for her to expect that the people in her life would stick to her ass and never stop texting her.

But then again, they did talk to Bellamy and Clarke had always been the solitary one. She did realise that a lot of the distance was her own making and Bellamy was the only person she was truly close to. It probably wasn’t fair to blame it on the rest, that Clarke couldn’t quite open up to them.

“Clarke?” Bellamy urged, bringing her back to reality. “Can you please talk to me?”

But she couldn’t. If she laid out all her grievances, fears and hung-ups about the fact that the people around her wouldn’t even care if she walked out of their lives, she was liable to break down over her own inability to connect to people. And worse of all, it might enlighten Bellamy and make him realise that she was more trouble than she was worth.

“It’s nothing,” she said hastily, waving her hand. “I’m just tired and it’s an off day.”

Bellamy clearly didn’t believe her, his scepticism written all over his face. He scrunched his eyebrows and Clarke knew he was about to try and say something reassuring but she didn’t give him the chance.

“Look, there really isn’t anything to talk about,” Clarke insisted, forcing a smile. She reached out her hand to Bellamy and wiggled her fingers. When he took her hand, she tugged to urge him to stand up. “I can’t promise that I’ll stay up long but I won’t say no to a beer.” She smiled again, this time more sincerely, hoping he’d drop the subject that she so stupidly brought up.

It wasn’t often that she regretted being a bit of a recluse and having difficulties connecting to people but when it spilt out of her, it always led to some heartbreak and she was already terrified that the comfort and safety of her friendship with Bellamy was just an illusion. There was no need to add fuel to that flame.

Finally, Bellamy relented but it was with his eyes narrowed and Clarke suspected he wouldn’t let go of it that easily. Luckily, they were already running late and with her running off to the bathroom to check up on her make-up, there wasn’t any time to dig into it any further.

An hour later and a half of a weak beer in, Clarke was very slowly falling back asleep, tucked into the corner of their booth, eye closed and head resting against Bellamy’s shoulders. His hand was wrapped around her knee, fingers scratching lightly along the inseam of her jeans, lulling her further into slumber. 

Clarke didn’t even notice the bell above the main door ringing but the commotion around their table shook her awake. She kept her eyes closed, not looking forward to them adjusting to the light but then Raven appeared at the table and spoke up in a raised voice.

“Look who I found, bitches!” she exclaimed and as if on cue, Clarke opened her eyes.

And came face to face with a very familiar scowl. Her eyes were much shorter now, and she wore clothes that Clarke would’ve never imagined her in but that was her.

“Echo, you’re back!” Emori laughed, jumping up from her seat. She wrapped her arms around the other woman and soon, the rest of the group followed in on the welcoming.

Clarke simply waved at Echo with a weak smile and when Bellamy stood up to hug the woman, Clarke immediately felt the loss of his warmth. Even more so when he sat back down and leaned away from her, focusing on his ex-girlfriend instead. Their legs were still touching, anything else was simply impossible in a booth packed so tightly, but his back was turned to her and Clarke found herself on the periphery of the conversation once again.

Raven was obviously overjoyed to have Echo back. The two of them had been good friends for years but shortly after Bellamy and Echo broke up, she took up a six-months contract and moved away—and stayed away for more than a year, when she was offered a permanent position. Everyone else was just as happy now. They all grew close after Bellamy introduced them all to his new girlfriend, and Clarke was the only one who didn’t seem to have anything in common with Echo.

“Well, the company is extending their branch here, adding the department that I’d been promoted to, so they thought since I already know this market, I might want to come back,” Echo explained when Harper asked about her return.

“So, you’re staying for good?” Bellamy asked, smiling ear-to-ear. Clarke felt a pang on ugly, ugly jealousy, thinking about Bellamy’s ex-girlfriend coming back to town.

Theirs was an amicable break up. All that Bellamy had said about it was that is simply didn’t work out between him and Echo and Clarke took it at face value. But she remember what he’d said about his priorities changing afterwards—how Bellamy didn’t go back to random hook-ups because he realised he wanted something more. Back then, Clarke was glad to hear it because it became the catalyst for them starting their arrangement.

Now though, as she watched him laughing with Echo at a joke that went completely over her head, Clarke couldn’t help but wonder if that really was all there was to the story. What if the reason he kept to himself was because he was still not over Echo and he agreed to the non-relationship because he figured it’d be a good way to get off without getting his feelings involved—feeling that were already occupied?

Clarke linked her hands in her lap, fingers intertwined, and she squeezed hard, bringing herself back to the present. _They weren’t together_. If all her suspicions were true and he’d want to go back to Echo, that would be perfectly okay and absolutely within the rules.

The table erupted in a boisterous laughter and Clarke realised she had no idea why. She got so stuck in her own head that she completely lost track of the conversation, not that anyone bothered to keep her involved.

She put her hand on Bellamy’s knee and shook his leg to get his attention. With a bit of a delay, he turned to face her, eyes a little unfocused. Clarke tried to ignore the painful tug inside when she noticed the hint of surprise on Bellamy’s face, like he’d actually forgotten she was still there.

“Huh?” he blinked to refocus on her.

“I’m gonna go home,” Clarke decided. She gathered her things without preamble and patted his knee to get him to let her out of the booth.

“You want me to go with you?” Bellamy asked when they were both up and she knew he meant it. But she also noticed that his attention was still on the table where Murphy was telling a story about some rude customer at his restaurant. And it didn’t matter how much her selfish streak urged her to say yes.

Clarke shook her head and wrapped her fingers around his wrist. That was the extent of the affection she allowed herself to show him around other people. “I’ll be alright.”

Bellamy nodded. “Text me when you get home,” he reminded her, his hand turning in her embrace. He squeezed her fingers gently and smiled.

On her way out of the bar, still able to feel the ghost of his touch on her skin, Clarke started to regret deciding to keep them a secret from everyone else. Maybe if she hadn’t, she’d be able to kiss him now and the pit in her stomach would feel a little less bottomless.

***

On a Saturday morning, Clarke woke up with a slight headache building behind her eyes and an empty bed. She was hoping she’d be able to convince Bellamy to spend the whole day in bed but that would be hard if he was already gone.

She rolled out of bed and a sliver of hope returned when she noticed that his clothes were still draped over the chair in the corner. At least he hadn’t gone far.

Clarke smelled coffee when she left her bedroom, wrapped in Bellamy’s thick cardigan. She tiptoed down the corridor to the kitchen, a mischievous smile on her face. She debated between surprising him with a kiss or just plain old yelling “boo”, but then she paused halfway there, when she heard Bellamy’s voice, clearly talking on the phone.

It’s not like she planned on eavesdropping on his conversation, but she was right there, so—

“—but I have some plans with Clarke today,” she heard him say before there was a pause. “Well, maybe we could take the Shallow Valley trail, I could ask Clarke to join us then and—“ another pause as he listened and then, “Yes, I know that Mount Weather is more challenging and interesting, but—“ an irritated huff. “Yes, I do remember I came up with Mount Weather in the first place.”

“I know that Clarke doesn’t _have_ to come with us, Raven, I just wanted to offer something we can all do together.” 

Clarke’s arms tightened around herself and her enthusiasm deflated. It’s become a bit of a pattern over the last few weeks. It seemed that Bellamy had taken her words to heart and even though he never openly mentioned it, he had been going out of his way to make her feel included in all the group activities, inviting her to all the events he never even mentioned before.

Clarke wasn’t an idiot, she knew that just as she and Bellamy had their museums and movie marathons, he also spent time with the others, doing things Clarke wasn’t all that into—and Bellamy was aware of that, which was why he negotiated every outing in order to make it more appealing to her. It was all very sweet of him but somehow, it only made her feel worse.

Before, she remained pretty much blissfully ignorant to most of what she was missing out on. Now, Clarke was the one declining. And coincidentally, ever since Echo came back, their plans became even more unappealing, if not potentially deadly—like the murderous hike up Mount Weather and an opening of the new sea food restaurant that Bellamy invited her to in his fervour, completely forgetting about her allergies.

“Fine, I’ll thing about it and text her,” Bellamy said with finality and once he disconnected, Clarke walked over to the kitchen, not bothering to pretend she didn’t hear him.

“Hey,” she greeted him a little flatly and it only helped a little when he smiled at her warmly.

“How much of that did you hear?” he asked, shaking his phone.

Clarke shrugged. “Enough to figure out that you’ll be climbing Mount Weather today instead of me.”

Bellamy snorted at her joke and grabbed the lapels of the cardigan to pull her into him. Clarke went willingly, her hands landing on his sides.

“I don’t have to go,” he offered but Clarke wasn’t fooled. She was the one who teased him months ago when he wanted to hike that trail, forgetting that it had been closed down for the winter.

“But you want to,” she stated, to which Bellamy answered with a grimace of confirmation. “So go!”

Bellamy looked at her for a moment, expression unreadable. Then he simply breathed out and nodded. With one hand still holding onto Clarke, Bellamy unlocked his phone and dialled.

Clarke wrapped her arms around his middle but tensed, when he spoke with a smile. “Echo? Yeah, can you pick me up in an hour?” Her arms went slack and she stepped back when Bellamy said his goodbyes.

“I’m gonna have to run soon,” he said after disconnecting and Clarke just stepped away from him completely.

She had never been one for conspiracy theories and was usually able to rein in whatever anxiety and paranoia came over her but this was—unshakeable. It wasn’t that she minded Bellamy was spending so much time with Echo. Even if it had been her place to have any kind of an opinion on the matter, she’d never dictate anyone who they could and couldn’t see.

But every time that Bellamy left to be with her, Clarke’s brain was screaming at her that there wasn’t a single thing stopping him from getting back together with Echo, if he hadn’t already. Sure, they had their rules and rationally, Clarke believed he wouldn’t have started sleeping with someone else without at least mentioning that to Clarke. In her more hopeful moments, she even believed he’d like to ask her for an opinion about starting over with an ex.

Ultimately though, what they had was just sex, they were not committed to one another and for all she knew, Bellamy could’ve been taking things slow with Echo, making sure that it would last this time. Clarke saw how the two of them were together. There was a closeness that was unthinkable between her and her own exes. And Echo never once missed an opportunity to touch him, even in the smallest of ways.

For all her rules, logic and safety measures that were supposed to keep her heart protected in this arrangement, watching Bellamy walk out the door that morning had an air of finality around it. She didn’t know if she believed it was a mistake to start sleeping with Bellamy and to keep it up for as long as they did; she was sure though that the last thing she wanted was losing him and the safety of his embrace. But there was no way that things could keep going the way they were so far.

She’d lose her mind and what was left of her wits otherwise.

***

The next time Josephine invited Clarke over for a night of bar hopping, Clarke agreed before Josie even finished telling her about the places they were about to visit.

The school year was coming to an end and Bellamy was so busy with finals that she hadn’t even seen him in a week—and every night of that week she went to bed unable to fall asleep. She was tossing and turning, either too cold without him or too hot when she pulled on another blanket. They weren’t sleeping together every night, she shouldn’t have gotten so used to having him in bed but usually, they had plans for when they’d see each other next and now, all she knew was that he barely answered a half of her already scarce messages and claimed he didn’t even have the time for her to bring dinner.

And Clarke fucking missed him.

So when Josie offered her a night of drinking their weights in drinks they hopefully wouldn’t even have to pay for, Clarke was all for it.

She couldn’t even tell if she met Gaia in bar number 4 or 5, the names didn’t even register and at some point, all those places looked the same. Trusting their designated driver, Gabriel, to get them back home safely, Clarke let go completely and decided to forget about the Bellamy-shaped mess she was craving—and if she couldn’t forget, then at least soak her brain in enough alcohol that she wouldn’t be able to think about _anything_ for a while.

And Gaia seemed very ideal for that. She made it perfectly clear that nothing would happen for as long as Clarke was incapable of making coherent decisions but she was more than willing to keep her company and give Clarke her number.

The next morning, everything was fuzzy and dimmed, the hangover keeping the promise to turn her brain into a mush. Still, Clarke scrolled through her phone, looking for Gaia’s number and squinting against the blinding light of the screen.

It wasn’t a lightning bolt attraction and Clarke had a strange feeling that Gaia might actually be involved with some cult, but she’d enjoyed the conversation and there was no hurt in texting Gaia, just to say hello.

Maybe this wouldn’t lead anywhere but it was as good a place as any for Clarke to start looking for _her_ someone.

***

Clarke was avoiding Bellamy, in a way. A very frustrating way.

They were still sleeping together, spending time together, texting throughout the day. But Clarke didn’t stay the night anymore. She stopped dropping by unannounced with food and a hope they’d find a mindless action flick for them to laugh at. As much as she hated to do so, she was pulling away. She needed to put some distance between then, find some perspective.

Clarke wasn’t ready to face her own feelings and admit to herself exactly why she felt like her heart was being slowly cut out of her chest with a blunt knife. It was so much easier when she thought they could just carry on with their arrangement for—well, there rest of their lives, frankly. Stupidly, she believed that if she _said_ there were no feeling involved then those pesky little buggers simply wouldn’t weasel their way between her and Bellamy. But they did.

Only the deeper she sunk, the less attached Bellamy seemed. If he even noticed the recent distance between them, he never said a thing. It looked like he didn’t mind that they spent less and less time together. After all, he never had any problems with calling her out on anything—if the change bothered him, he would’ve said something. But he hadn’t.

***

For weeks now, Friday nights were for Josephine and whatever crazy plan she came up that time. While Bellamy went out for the quiet drink with the group, Clarke gave herself over to Josie, who had the incredible ability to sense that something was wrong but instead of asking about it, she picked out the loudest and most outrageous places they could visit that would drown out all the thoughts in Clarke’s head. It was exhausting but cleansing enough. For one crazy evening, Clarke was simply too preoccupied (or drunk) to think about anything other than what was directly in front of her.

One of those Fridays, Clarke was getting ready for a night out when Bellamy let himself into her flat with a pizza box.

He froze when he saw her, with her heavy make-up and a deep cleavage, and Clarke felt a pang of satisfaction that she at least still had some effect on him.

“You’re going out?” he asked, somewhat surprised.

Clarke put down the shoe boxes she’d been searching for her favourite pair of wedges and sent him an unimpressed look. For _weeks_ she’d been going out.

“Clearly,” she muttered loud enough for Bellamy to hear. He tensed, his face falling and for a split second. Clarke felt bad. It wasn’t actually his fault that she’d lost her head and let herself become attached. Save for an occasional lament over her lacking people skills and reclusiveness, it’s never been a problem for her that Bellamy had his own relationship with his group of friends while Clarke was only loosely attached to them.

Rationally, she shouldn’t take it out on him that she was scared he’d leave her behind, especially since she never once talked to him about it. But rationality had left the building a long time ago.

“Next time if you wanna hang out, you should check in first,” she said with a grimace and went back to digging through her closet.

Bellamy put down the pizza and came over to where she stood, close enough for her to smell his cologne. Her fingers tightened over a sandal strap as the scent brought back memories of being surrounded by it as she reached her peak.

“I took a chance,” Bellamy said with a weak smile. “You haven’t been going out on the weekends for a while.”

Without him, he meant. She hadn’t been going out without him. He didn’t actually say it, didn’t need to but she could see it on his face, the surprise of her preparing to leave still lingering about his features. And it was true, sure. Once Clarke stopped looking for hook-ups at bars, she stopped visiting them alone and barely went out with Josie. For as long as she’d been sleeping with Bellamy, he was the main reason why she went out at night. Until recently.

Clarke finally found the shoes she was looking for but it was a hollow victory. She was instead flooded by frustration and anger building deep in her gut. Was he for real? Had he seriously not realised what had changed in the last month?

“I actually have been, Bellamy,” she told him dryly and ignored the helping hand he’d offered when she wobbled on her feet trying to put her shoes on. “You were just too busy to notice.”

“What the hell is _that_ supposed to mean?” Bellamy shot back and she could tell his heckles were rising as well. Good. Her job had nearly damn killed her during the week and she was in a fighting mood, and it would make her feel a lot less guilty if he participated equally.

“Just that you’ve been busy lately with your _friends_ ,” she said, putting an emphasis on the last word. Yes, of course she meant Echo, too. But she’d be damned if she made herself into a jealous girlfriend who only cared about Bellamy hanging out with his ex. “I suppose they’ve been keeping you entertained enough that you didn’t even notice that I’m not completely without my own acquaintances. ”

Bellamy frowned, crossing his arms over his chest. “Clarke, why are you trying to pick up a fight?”

It was a valid question, she gave him that much. But by then, Clarke was already so wound up that it only made her pissed more. That and the fact that he obviously knew her well enough to realise what she was doing.

“Because I think we need to talk, about us,” she said, mirroring his stance. In her high-heeled shoes she was almost on the same eye level. “I don’t think it’s working anymore.”

With a furrowed brow, Bellamy leaned his head forwards, like he needed to get closer to hear her better.

“What?” he asked flatly.

Clarke shook her head, steeling herself for what she would to say next. And she needed to say this.

“Bellamy, come on. You must’ve noticed that things have changed,” she started and the frown on Bellamy’s forehead only deepened. She clenched her teeth. “We’re spending less and less time together and when we do, it’s pretty much only to hook up.”

Bellamy took a loud breath, and one of his eyes twitched. “Isn’t that what your insane idea was supposed to be about? Just sex?” he huffed angrily.

Clarke opened her mouth and closed it, like a fish out of water. That stung.

“Yeah, well, it was also supposed to be temporary, until we find something better,” she hissed harshly, through her teeth. Sure, she knew he didn’t get as emotionally invested as she did but it was one thing to think it and another to have it confirmed out loud. “So now we go back to how things were.”

She raised an eyebrow as a challenge, masochistically wondering if that would be the moment where he finally confirmed her paranoia as well and admitted that he wanted to get back together with Echo.

Bellamy stayed silent, though, for a long moment. He uncrossed his arms and let them hang loose at his sides. He just stared at Clarke, studying her face and for the first time during the confrontation, some of the tension escaped her, leaving room for doubt. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, a little discombobulated. He wasn’t supposed to look at her like that, like she’d just stabbed him in the gut.

“Clarke, is that really what you want?” he finally asked, slowly. “Are we—are we over?”

Clarke moved her arms, so instead of crossing them, she was hugging herself.

“What do you want?” she deflected, suddenly feeling very tired. She didn’t _want to_ end things between them but she was also done being the driving force of this mess. It was the rule number one—he was supposed to say what he wanted.

“I don’t want to keep you in a situation that you’re not comfortable with,” he answered evasively, carefully.

Clarke let out a dry, humourless huff of laughter. Right.

She supposed to Bellamy, maybe it made sense. She was the one who started this whole thing, it was only fair that she’d be the one to end it. But fuck, it felt like so much more between them was ending and she wanted him to say something, anything, about how he felt about it. In over ten years of friendship, neither one of them shied away from getting it all out in the open and telling the other what they thought. Only this time, she laid out hers and Bellamy simply took it.

Well, maybe that was her answer. Maybe the reason he didn’t even try to talk to her about it was that he really didn’t care either way. It was a hard pill to swallow but maybe it was for the better.

“I guess we are over,” she confirmed with finality, the words barely making it out of her constricted throat. She swallowed heavily but it didn’t do any good.

Bellamy took a step backwards and then another one. And he just kept looking at her with an unreadable expression. His jaws were clenched but his eyes were soft.

“I think I should go now,” he finally said after the long moment of silence. Clarke didn’t even have the chance to react and he already had his hand on the doorknob.

Bellamy looked at her once again and opened his mouth, as if to say something. But then, he simply shook his head instead and walked out without a word. The door clicked, the small noise loud and obtrusive to her.

For a moment, Clarke just stood there, in the middle of her corridor, with the closet open and the floor littered with random shoes, as she tried to process what had just happened.

No, she did not break up with Bellamy and there was absolutely no reason for her to think that she did. Whatever they had ended just as quickly and easily as it started and only _now_ could they actually go back to normal.

Still though, when she was finally able to take a breath that didn’t feel like she was inhaling liquid fire, Clarke picked up her phone and texted Josephine to say that she wasn’t coming. She kicked off her shoes, ripped off all of her clothes and marched over to the bathroom.

Clarke got under the shower, turned the water to scalding hot and as her make-up washed away and ran off in dark streaks down her face and body, she tried to convince herself that none of that was because of tears.

It didn’t work.

***

It took her all of an hour to realise that she couldn’t do it.

When Harper texted her, saying they were all going out to celebrate Monty’s promotion, Clarke’s first instinct was to dig her heels in and refuse. She hadn’t seen Bellamy since they ended things over a week ago, their only contact boiled down to a few dry texts throughout the day and the last thing she wanted was to spend an evening with him, if they weren’t on speaking terms, and a bunch of people who’d take his side in a blink of an eye if they knew what had happened. Which was exactly why she said yes.

That was the agreement. They’d keep going for as long as they wanted and then it will be over, no hard feelings. And if she wanted to prove to Bellamy that she was still adhering to those rules, she couldn’t just hide from him.

Only when she finally got to the bar—the last one there because she lived the furthest and had never actually travelled there form her own place, always visiting Bellamy’s first, she realised that the real challenge would be proving all that to herself.

They toasted Monty, bemoaned the fact that they were growing older and then moved on to their usual bar talk. And for all that Clarke was happy for him, and for Harper because with the money boost they could finally start looking for that house they’d been talking about for years, she couldn’t truly relax.

Bellamy hadn’t said a word to her the whole evening. She caught him staring at her from time to time, looking like he wanted to talk but every time, he just clenched his jaw and looked away. And every time he did that, the ball in Clarke’s throat grew just a little bit bigger.

The only saving grace seemed to be the fact that their entire arrangement remained between them. Just like none of their friends had noticed that something had changed during the eight months they’d been sleeping together, they also didn’t realise anything was amiss now. No one paid any attention to the fact that they sat at the opposite ends of the table, appeared separately and eventually walked out of the bar and each went on their own way.

When Clarke walked out of the bar, she ignored the rain soaking through her clothes, marched past the line of taxis waiting for customers and went quickly down the street, in the direction of her flat. It was already late and it was gonna be a long walk, and by the time she got home, she’d be exhausted and wet from head to toe but Clarke still walked. The cold rain against her face was almost painful but she welcomed the sensation that helped her clear her head.

She truly believed that her arrangement with Bellamy was the safest option. They were good, if unlikely friends, they were both hot and horny, and at the same stage where they didn’t feel like seeking out random hook-ups. They already trusted each other, loved each other even, and it seemed as though they were on the same page. They even had rules that were supposed to keep it all in order. So how come Clarke managed to fuck this one simple thing so badly? How could she fall so deeply that—

At that thought, Clarke paused mid-step and so suddenly that she slipped on the wet pavement. She grabbed a street lamp for support and started breathing heavily. She wiped the water off of her face, smearing her make-up all over and closed her eyes for a moment.

She could almost hear Bellamy’s voice inside her head, scalding her to keep walking because she was alone in the middle of the night and who knew what could happen but she just needed a minute. Besides, the rain currently pelting against her back must’ve scared everyone else off because there truly was no-one in sight.

Was she— _in love_ with Bellamy?

She joked about it, that first night, didn’t she? She thought she was so clever for finding someone she knew too well to suddenly develop romantic feelings for. How could she be so stupid? After all, one of the reasons she started to revisit her routines was that every single person she met, she was comparing to Bellamy in one way or the other.

If someone was in academia, Clarke thought of him. If they ordered his favourite beer, she smiled at the connection. All it took was one impassioned rant and she wondered if he’d like them—and somehow, the thought that he might never really sat well with her.

Did that really mean that she was in love with Bellamy, that maybe she had been for a rather long time now? Could she really be so emotionally constipated that she’d failed to notice that?

Well, the second that thought crossed her mind, Clarke knew that the answer was ‘yes’. If it was a question regarding her ability to process and name her feelings, the answer would always be devastatingly unflattering to her. And falling in love with her best friend and seemed just like the perfect example.

A few minutes and one earth-shattering revelation later, Clarke finally pushed away from the lamp and, still breathing heavily, continued on her walk back home. The rain didn’t slow down for anything and as she powered on, it felt less like clarity and more a punishment.

Clarke pushed away the only person in her life that she used to be sure of because she was too scared and too stuck in her own head to figure it all out earlier. She’d hurt him by picking up a fight instead of having a mature conversation. And now she was going to do something just as bad—she was going to run.

***

A whole month passed since the night of her epiphany and Clarke had felt each day as a new knife being stuck into her body.

Each day, she woke up exhausted form the lack of sleep, missing Bellamy’s embrace, and each night she tossed and turned, fighting the urge to call him. Instead, she sent him a few random texts throughout the day, to keep him from suspecting that anything was wrong. 

Clarke knew Bellamy too well to just cut off all ties. She knew that if she stopped responding for longer than a day, he’d come looking for her, worried that something had happened to her and if he did, she wouldn’t be able to keep it together. If he came by and demanded answers, she’d probably tell him everything and that she simply couldn’t do. He’d be sweet about it, she was sure. He’d say that he cared about her, too, that she was important to him. But ultimately, it would still be a rejection.

So instead, Clarke did what she knew best. Assumed that he had his own life that she was only intruding on and decided against most of the texts she wanted to send him, not wanting to be a bother. It wasn’t a good trait, she knew that. It was probably the chief reason why she hardly had any friends—because she stopped herself from reaching out as often as she sometimes wanted to, believing that it would make her look like a nuisance.

If she kept it up for long enough, he’d move on, she was sure. Everyone always did. Soon enough, Bellamy would realise that if she couldn’t be bothered to try to keep their friendship, then she wasn’t worth it and that would be that.

***

When Clarke ran into Raven at the greengrocer's one day, she literally _ran into_ her. The impact made an incredible racket and sent both of their shopping trolleys flying widely.

Clarke heard Raven swearing loudly with an angry expression that didn’t improve one bit once Raven recognised her.

“Ah, so you are still alive,” the other woman said, crossing her arms over her chest.

“It would appear so,” Clarke shot back. “I’ve just been busy.” To her ears, it sounded weak but Raven simply nodded.

Raven looked at her for a moment, taking her in, and Clarke averted her eyes. Things have not been good between in forever. After they managed to move on from the fact that Raven’s boyfriend cheated on her with Clarke, they got close for a while. But then Finn grew obsessed and once Clarke called the cops on him for stalking her, all that progress with Raven went to hell and they never recovered.

“Well, I suppose now that I see you, are you coming to trivia night on Wednesday?” Raven finally asked. Clarke hesitated for a moment before she remembered one of Bellamy’s recent texts, about how the bar owners wanted to attract some new crowd and decided to start off with theme nights. Clarke gave him something vague in response and that was supposed to be that. Raven was the last person she expected to invite her as well.

As if reading her mind, Raven continued with a sour expression. “I was gonna bring this guy from work but he got busy and all the couples paired off according to who’s sleeping with whom, so I need a second. And you’ve got some knowledge, right?”

Clarke opened her mouth, trying to process all the information. Raven actually asking to work together was big on its own, but the other part of the equation sort of knocked the air out of her lungs. Monty and Harper, Emori and Murphy—so that only left Bellamy and Echo, together. As a couple who was sleeping together. Her head was spinning.

Raven raised her eyebrows, waiting. Clarke cleared her throat. “I’m sorry, but I can’t on Wednesday. I already told Bellamy that, uh,” she searched her brain for the excuse she’d given him. “My mother invited me to a dinner with some of her colleagues.”

“Right, the glamorous lives of the rich and powerful,” Raven answered with a slight sneer. “That’s too bad. Guess I’m just gonna have to bring some other warm body and hope that they stick to scientific questions.”

Clarke nodded with as much sympathy as she could muster and soon after, they said their goodbyes and Raven left, leaving Clarke stunned and blinking her tears away.

***

Ironically, on the same day that Clarke claimed she was supposed to dine with her mother, Abby called to invite her over for a cocktail party. There were very few things that Clarke wanted to do less than prance around in an uncomfortable dress and enough hair spray to freeze a speeding bullet, but she couldn’t help the thought that getting out of town, even for a short while, might not be such a bad idea.

Over the weekend then, Clarke drove to her mother’s estate, gave herself over to the beautician and plastered onto her face the most pleasant smile that she could muster. And to be honest, it wasn’t even all that bad. In a way, it was a rather small affair, only a couple of dozens of people and none of them wished to remind Clarke what spectacular success her mother had achieved by the time she was her daughter’s age.

Strangely enough, things actually improved between her and Abby, even since Clarke decided not to become a doctor. A psych major that Clarke was hooking up around that time told her that once Abby accepted that Clarke was no longer on the path where she could out-do her mother’s achievements, Abby was finally able to recognise that Clarke was her own person. Clarke wasn’t sure what to think about that, she was mostly just glad to regain and improve her relationship with her mother. They lived drastically different lives and a bit away from each other, but it worked for them.

Enough so that when Clarke saw her mother glide through the crowd towards her, she smiled genuinely and offered her elbow for Abby to hold onto while the two of them toured around the room.

“Oh, I almost forgot,” Abby huffed, patting Clarke’s hand to get her attention. “I got the invites for the museum tour you asked me about,” she said, smiling widely.

Clarke fumbled on her feet a little, suddenly remembering what Abby was talking about. She recovered quickly but her mother still sent her a questioning look.

It’s been months Clarke she came up with the idea. One time, when she and Bellamy went to see one of the new exhibits at their university museum and got stuck in an unimaginable crowd of people, Bellamy mused how great it would be if they’d been able to come after hours and have the whole place to themselves. It was just a random thought at the time but it got Clarke thinking.

With Bellamy’s 35th birthday approaching, she decided to somehow give him that opportunity. And who better to ask for help than doctor Abigail Griffin herself, one of the university’s biggest donors? Her mother promised to help and that was it for a few months—until clearly, she’d finally done it. And it was a bittersweet moment.

When Clarke came up with it, she expected it would be something she and Bellamy would do together. A whole night at the museum, with just the two of them and a couple of tour guides to help them navigate and show them what’s happening behind the scenes. Honestly, the amount of thought she’d put into dreaming up that one perfect night, it was staggering Clarke hadn’t figured out she was in love with Bellamy earlier.

Now that it’s all gone to hell though, she couldn’t very well go with him, could she? And not just because he probably wanted nothing to do with her or that her heart would break if half.

Bellamy was back with Echo. Clarke couldn’t just invite him on a romantic one-on-one night at the museum when there was another woman waiting for him at home. Months ago, she was blind to how it would look but honestly, this was practically a date. She couldn’t just take him out like that and pretend it was fucking _platonic_. Clearly, she had to relinquish her spot and learn how not to burst into tears at the thought of Bellamy going there with someone else.

Clarke finished the round around the room in near-trance. She knew her mother gossiped a little about the people they were passing, but she could only nod and once they were back at the table, Clarke excused herself and slipped away to the back patio to get some air.

She sat down in one of the large chairs, kicked her heels off and covered her eyes, sinking deep into the cushions. She took slow, measured breaths to calm herself down but it wasn’t really working. Mostly because, on top of all the sadness and heartache, she was pissed at herself. It was her own damn fault for ruining everything, that much was obvious. She was oblivious enough to fall in love with her best friend and them pushed him away when it all got too complicated. And it fucking _sucked_.

“I don’t think I’ve seen such despair on you during a party since you were sixteen,” Clarke heard someone say. She startled at the sound but didn’t bother moving once she placed the voice.

“Long time, no see, Roan.”

She heard the man walk over to her, the heels of his shoes tapping against the wooden deck. Roan sat down opposite of her and only then did she open her eyes and looked at him from under her eyelashes.

Ten years older than Clarke and Roan had never been a close friend to her. Their mothers were sort of business rivals, so most of the interactions between the families were coated with a veneer of fake politeness but she like Roan. At some point, they bonded over the crushing disappointment they were both bringing to their entire society for not following in their parents’ footsteps and they developed a strange camaraderie that never extended past the doors of wherever they were meeting at the time.

“Seriously, Clarke. You don’t look very well,” Roan said with enough concern in his voice that she almost believed he cared.

“Gee, thanks,” she waved him off with a snort. Still, Roan didn’t budge. He just cocked an eyebrow and stretched over the chair, settling in.

Clarke took a long, shaky breath—and just told him everything. And though it didn’t help much, at the very least it felt good to finally get it off her chest, even once.

***

When Harper texted with the information about Bellamy’s birthday party, the first thing that Clarke did was frown. It seemed rather unlikely that he’d _choose_ to celebrate in the loudest, most crowded club in the city but knowing Bellamy, he probably just didn’t protest when someone else came up with the idea. The guy had a serious problem with properly saying what he wanted, instead of going along with what others decided, simply wanting _them_ to be happy.

The second thing Clarke did was take a deep breath and try not to cry over the fact that she had to be notified about the party in the first place. For as long as they’d been friends, she was the one organising it, spending weeks on trying to get Bellamy to cough up what he wanted to get.

But since she practically walked out of Bellamy’s life, Clarke no longer had a say in those things. Truth be told, she was a little surprised to get invited at all. Bellamy was supposed to have moved on by now.

Still though, she sent him the traditional string of emojis on the day of his birthday, knowing that he’d spend the rest of the day complaining about how he’s got no idea what any of that was supposed to mean, and then, when the day of the party came, she put on her favourite evening dress and into the den of the lion she went.

The Polaris club was just as overwhelmingly loud as Clarke remembered. She reread the text from Harper and headed towards the more secluded area where their party was supposed to take place but before she got there, she grabbed a shot from the bar, for some liquid courage.

When she finally got to their table, it seemed like everyone else was already there—which made sense, considering that she purposefully left her home half an hour late, to make sure she wouldn’t accidentally end up alone with— _anyone_.

She scanned the group, looking for Bellamy but before she could recognise the familiar head of hair, someone grabbed her hand from the side and pulled her in for a hug.

“Princess!” she heard Bellamy’s slightly slurred call but smothered in his tight embrace, she couldn’t respond with anything more than a huff and chuckle.

“You’re here!” he added loudly, when he finally let her go. He was smiling widely, his hands still wrapped around Clarke’s elbows.

She smiled back at him, physically incapable of doing anything else when he seemed that happy. Granted, from the sound of his voice and the way his eyes were shining, Clarke could tell he’d been drinking, but if that had put him in a good mood, she’d take it.

“Course I am,” she confirmed, her own hands resting over his forearms. Clarke rubbed her thumb over the warm, soft skin on the inside of his arm, her lips twitching at the bittersweet memory of the last time she laid wrapped around him.

She cleared her throat. “How could I ever miss your birthday, old man? Who knows how many of those we’ll have left, huh?”

Bellamy grinned at her joke and Clarke ducked her head to look at her shoes, his heated gaze burning a hole through her head.

For a short moment, they just stood there, staring at each other. Clarke knew that she should’ve moved already but the comfort of being close to Bellamy again, even for a moment, even though it was slicing thought her soul like a sharp knife, was too much for her to resist. Sure enough, if Echo hadn’t shown up and distracted them, Clarke would’ve happily stayed like that for the rest of the night.

Still, though.

“Bellamy, come on,” Echo urged him. She wrapped her hand around his biceps and pulled him away. “There are others who want to talk to you.”

Bellamy let go of Clarke with some reluctance, or so she chose to believe.

“You’re staying, right?” he asked, already a few steps away. Clarke nodded stiffly in confirmation and he was gone, on his way to a group of people that Clarke didn’t recognise, standing in a corner.

It didn’t look like Bellamy knew them very well either but then, what did Clarke know. It’s been seven weeks since she allowed herself anything more than a phone call and an apology for being so busy that she didn’t have the time to hang out. She knew that it wasn’t fair, what she was doing. Her avoidance tactics must’ve been hurtful to Bellamy and even if they pained him a fraction of how much they did her, it had to be unbearable.

But she didn’t know what else to do. Clearly, Bellamy had moved on from whatever he might’ve felt for her, if there ever was anything. He was already back with Echo and no matter how much Clarke missed him, she couldn’t just go on and pretend that everything was alright. If there was one thing about her own heart that she was sure of now, was that Bellamy was it for her. Only she wasn’t for him.

Realising that she probably looked like a weirdo, just standing in the doorway and staring ahead, Clarke finally came up to the table. She sat down next to Harper, who immediately took her hand and squeezed tightly. Monty jerked his head in lieu of a greeting and smiled. Clarke frowned, noticing their expressions. Concerned, sympathetic, maybe even a little sad.

If she didn’t know better, she would’ve said that they knew what was going on but that was impossible. Right? _She_ didn’t tell them and she doubted Bellamy did either, given how she hadn’t received one stink eye from either Raven or Murphy. And she wasn’t drunk enough to get flooded with unfounded optimism and believe they actually missed her. Clarke was tempted to ask but what would be the point of that? She wasn’t about to lay it all out in the open then and even if, the only thing it would’ve achieved would be to make her cry again.

Nevertheless, whatever the reason for their support was, she took it. She smiled at them gratefully and returned the hold on Harper’s hand. They let go of each other when the waiter replaced the empty beer pitchers and a crowd gathered around the table but neither of them moved far from each other. A moment later, Clarke smiled into her own mug lightly.

It wasn’t even an hour after she came, that someone decided it was time for gifts, before they all got drunk and forgot they even brought any.

Bellamy was put to stand in the middle of the room, to receive everyone as if they were at an audience with the king. Even from the distance, Clarke could tell he hated the position. He was wringing his hands together and his cheeks were red, probably in equal amount from the alcohol and becoming the centre of attention. Still, he smiled through it, like he always did, because it didn’t matter what he felt, as long as the people he loved were content.

It wasn’t a bad trait, obviously. Taking care of others and putting them first. But over the years, Clarke realised that Bellamy had the tendency to deny himself even the simplest dreams and desires, for the sake of other; herself included. Something squeezed her heart like a vice, when it struck her that he probably even found a way to blame himself for this whole situation and for the distance she’d been putting between them.

Clarke blinked rapidly when tears started to blur her vision and every instinct she had was telling her to run. She stayed though, rooted in her spot, when Bellamy’s eyes found hers and he looked at her with an intensity that ignited a fire inside her. As if summoned, Clarke got up from her seat and walked over to him.

“Okay, shut up everybody!” she commanded, clapping her hands. Bellamy snorted at her side and called her bossy but there was a relief in his eyes. He was a brave, confident man. Cocky even, when he was in a mood. About pretty much everything except his own person.

“We’re not 10 anymore, I think we’d all rather go back to the party than sit here and watch him open up your gifts,” Clarke said decidedly. She pursed her lips, accepting no resistance and promptly, everyone dumped their presents onto the table in the corner.

“Thanks,” Bellamy huffed once no-one was looking at them. He grabbed her hand for a quick squeeze and smiled gently at her. Clarke pressed her lips together and tried to smile back but it wasn’t working very well. Instead, she pulled her hand away and before Bellamy could even frown, she opened up her purse and started digging through it.

Back when it was still supposed to be her and Bellamy on the museum trip, everything was booked in her mother’s name but now that there wouldn’t be a Griffin present, Clarke had to move some things around. She called the university to make sure that they knew who to expect and they were kind enough to email her all the information—that she promptly printed out and then stuffed into her purse shortly before she left home.

The pages were in a bit of a sorry state at the moment but it’d have to do.

“I’m sorry, it doesn’t look very impressive,” Clarke said, scrunching up her face. She trusted the pages into his face. “I hope you’ll like it.”

Bellamy took it from her with a confused look and started reading through the information, and Clarke could pinpoint the moment when it dawned on him, what he’d been given. His eyes widened, his mouth dropped open and when he looked back up at Clarke, he stared at her like he was seeing her for the first time.

“Is that—“ he hesitated. Then exhaled loudly. Cleared his throat and looked back at the print out, as if to make sure he saw it correctly. “At the university?”

Clarke nodded with a chuckle and almost missed it, he moved so quickly, swiping her off her feet for the second time that night. This time, she didn’t hesitate wrapping her arms around his neck. She was just tipsy enough to tuck her face into the crook of his neck and hug him back.

Bellamy released her after a moment but only so that he could read through the papers again, still looking dazed and amazed.

“It’s for two people, so you can take whoever you want,” Clarke explained, putting her hands together, in case she was tempted to reach out to him. “Everything is set up so all you have to do is show up but call them, if you need to change the date, apparently there might be some slight wiggle room.”

“Yeah, no, that’s no problem. A hurricane wouldn’t keep me away,” Bellamy reassured her with a grin. He rechecked the printout once again and shook his head in disbelief.

“This is amazing, Clarke. I can’t believe it’s even possible, must’ve been expensive,” he mused out loud. He rubbed his hand over his face and for a second, Clarke could’ve sworn he was about to say that it was too much.

Clarke bit her lip and scrunched up her nose. Well, it didn’t cost _her_ a penny but considering how much her mother had donated over the years—

“Oh, it’s alright,” she said with a small shrug. “It was a group effort.” Clarke jerked her head in the direction of the table where his friends sat. It seemed like a safe choice, making him believe that they all paid for it. It’s not like he’d want to let everyone down and turn the trip down.

Besides, if he didn’t think she was the one behind it, maybe he wouldn’t figure out that she’d practically gifted him a dream date.

Bellamy finally nodded with acceptance, folded the pages neatly and put them in his pocket. He looked at Clarke then, a long, deep and inquisitive look that made her squirm. She could tell he wanted to talk. Probably about anything, just so he could ask how she was doing and in any other circumstances, she would’ve broken, for sure. But that moment between them was shattered pretty quickly when the music changed around them and grew louder. The people started cheering and most of them moved on to the dance floor.

With a small wave of her hand at Bellamy, Clarke let the crowd carry her over closer to the door. She stepped away from them at some point and rushed towards the exit. It was hardly elegant but she didn’t even care that she seemed to have run away like a thief into the night, she needed to get out.

Liquid courage was a good idea when she needed to face Bellamy without falling to pieces but the longer she stayed with him, the more liable she was to do something stupid, like tell him how she felt. She needed to get out.

***

Clarke skipped through the tv channels, looking for something to watch, groaning at the disappointing selection. Finally, she settled on the first music station that wasn’t giving her a splitting headache and tossed the remote to her side. It landed between the couch cushions and Clarke stared at it for a moment, but ultimately she just shrugged and turned her attention back to the television.

She was staring at the wall above the screen, humming absentmindedly to the songs she recognised, when the buzzer to the building sounded off. Broken out of her stupor, Clarke went to open the door. she dug through her bag, looking for the money and by the time the delivery guy reached her flat, she was almost able to focus on getting her food. She even sent him a crooked smile as she said goodbye but the guy still looked at her funny.

It probably didn’t help that she was wearing one of Bellamy’s old high school football jerseys that she’d swiped years ago, sleeping shorts and a pair of polka dots knee-high socks, and her hair was still half wet from the shower she’d taken after coming back from work.

Honestly, she couldn’t care less what the guy thought of her, though. It was a Friday evening, she had to stay late at work to finish off a report and for the first time in a while, she didn’t have anything planned for the weekend.

If there was one thing she’d learnt from her drastically short stay at Bellamy’s birthday party a week before, it was that getting over him would be a process and no amount of drinks, dancing and meeting new people could ever speed it up. And the distance she’d put between them wasn’t working either. All it did was make her miss him more and she’d just have to tough it out.

While she ate, the program on the tv changed to the 80s greatest hits and after the third song, Clarke decided that she couldn’t just sit around and do nothing. She spared a glance at her art supplies that laid abandoned on a desk in the corner, but she wasn’t really in a creative mood. She wanted to throw things.

Bellamy’s museum trip was happening tomorrow and she needed more heavy lifting do take her mind off of wondering who he’d be taking with. So, with no better idea Clarke threw away the empty food containers and walked over to the closet in the corridor, determined to clean it out, sort all her shit and set something away for donations.

She cranked up the music and snorted to herself when ‘Eye of the Tiger’ started playing. With a new will, she yanked the closet doors open and started throwing everything out. It’s not like she had anything better to do.

Clarke was halfway through her work clothes when the doorbell rang. Distracted, she first thought that it was food delivery and reached for her bag. Only then, she remembered she already ate—and it wasn’t the buzzer she heard but her front door instead. She froze mid-step, confused. She wasn’t expecting anyone else and Mrs. Kane from the end of the hall had already come by to ask if any of her mail had been delivered to Clarke by accident.

She abandoned the purse and stalked over to the door, scratching her head. She peeped through the hole and nearly fell flat on her arse when a mop of dark, curly hair moved behind the glass. Clarke’s fingers wrapped tightly around the doorknob, and her forehead landed against the wood of the door with a heavy thud. The noise was loud enough for Bellamy to hear because a moment later, a soft knocking came from the outside.

“Clarke?” he asked, so quietly that she barely heard him over Iron Maiden playing in the background.

She squeezed her eyes shut, took a deep breath and unlocked the door.

“Nice socks,” Bellamy said when Clarke finally opened the door and let him in. She sent him an unimpressed grimace and he grinned back.

There was silence at first, while Clarke locked the door and Bellamy came further in. His eyebrows jumped up when he saw the mayhem in the corridor but wisely, he didn’t say anything; they just looked at each other. After a long moment though, Clarke grew restless and self-consciousness. It didn’t used to be unusual for Bellamy to come by unannounced but things changed.

There were so many things he could’ve come to yell at her about. She ran out of his birthday party without a word of a goodbye, just to name the most recent one. She cleared her throat, her fingers tugging at the hem of her sleep shorts nervously. She didn’t care that the delivery guy saw her dressed liked that but with Bellamy, she suddenly felt very exposed.

Just because she deserved to hear all that Bellamy wanted to drag out into the open, didn’t mean she was particularly looking forward to it.

“The museum called me today, asked if nothing had changed and we were still on for tomorrow,” Bellamy told her eventually.

Okay, that she didn’t see coming. Her brow furrowed in confusion and she meant to ask if there was a problem but Bellamy wasn’t done yet.

“The funny thing is, they asked to talk to Abigail Griffin. It took a little wiggling before they found the note that it was supposed to be in my name,” he explained, crossing and uncrossing his arms in front of himself anxiously.

Clarke huffed. So, that half hour she’d spent on the phone with the museum was a waste of time. Still, she wasn’t sure what made him so nervous.

“I’m sure it won’t be a problem tomorrow,” she said, making a mental note to call the museum in the morning to straighten it all out again.

Bellamy groaned and threw his arms in the air, so abruptly that Clarke took a step back, surprised.

“That’s not what I’m on about,” he moaned, his fingers running through his hair. Clarke just looked at him, at a loss. Realising her cluelessness, Bellamy sighed and his shoulders dropped.

“Did you ask—did your mother pay for this visit?” he finally asked weakly.

Ah, so that’s what this was about. The Griffin’s money and status had been a bone of contention between Clarke and Bellamy for a long time before they were able to move past all that pride and prejudice—mainly by deciding not to talk about it. Clarke grew up with money and Bellamy didn’t but there was nothing that neither one of them could do about it. It was just better to leave it alone.

But if Bellamy thought that Clarke asked her mother for the money to pay for his birthday present, the was no way he’d accept it. She wouldn’t lie to him about it though.

“Well, that’s not exactly how it happened,” she started with a grimace and rubbed the back of her neck. “She didn’t pay for _this_ , it’s more of a favour to a life-long benefactor.”

“Huh,” he answered and deflated. Without looking, Bellamy leaned back against the wall behind him and blew a raspberry. “You know, I should’ve suspected it wasn’t a group gift when I opened up the _free home-cooked meals_ coupon book from Murphy.”

That pulled out a surprised snort from Clarke and she slapped a hand over her face to contain it. Clearly satisfied with her reaction, Bellamy smirked at her drumming his hands against the wall.

“So,” he said, pushing away from the wall and moving closer to Clarke. “You wanna come with me?”

Voice hitched in her throat, Clarke looked away. “I’m sorry, I can’t.”

Bellamy paused and frowned, barely hiding his disappointment. “Big plans?” he joked with a cautious smile. But Clarke just shook her head.

“No, I just—can’t. You should take someone else.”

Bellamy looked at her, confused.

“I don’t want to take anyone else,” he disagreed with a tone of petulance. “Museums are our thing,” he added, motioning between them with his hand.

When Clarke said nothing, Bellamy’s expression softened and he stepped closer, so much closer that she could almost feel the warmth coming off of his body.

“Clarke, I know that things between us have been a little tense lately, ever since we stopped—” he practically whispered and she couldn’t stop herself from rolling her eyes at the blatant understatement. Bellamy took it as a admittance. “You’re still my best friend, thought. I want to spend time with you.”

Something tightened in the pit of Clarke’s stomach, both at the reassurance of their friendship and the unexpected confirmation that her plan to alienate Bellamy hadn’t been worth shit. She hugged herself with her own arms and took another step back, unable to take his burning gaze up close. Weeks and weeks had gone by, one might think that it shouldn’t hurt that much anymore, to hear that she was just a friend. But damn it, it sure as hell felt like punch in the gut.

“I’m just not sure, if it’s a good idea, for us to, uhm,” she mumbled but couldn’t finish. There wasn’t a good way to go on with that sentence that wouldn’t mess things up any more.

Bellamy looked at her with mouth open and a puzzled look, like he didn’t know what to ask first. Clarke’s fingers tightened around the soft material of her shirt and with a ball in her throat, she finally let it out.

“I know you and Echo are back together, Raven told me,” she shot out. She could hear Bellamy’s strangled gasp, followed by a muttered ‘ _the fuck_ ’ but she kept ploughing on. “And I just—I don’t want to be a problem. I don’t want to mess things up between you two.”

“Clarke—“

“Uhm! Not that I think that I _could_ ,” her eyes widened and she started backtracking. “I know that you don’t, uh—“

“Clarke!” Bellamy interrupted louder. “Princess, I promise you, you can’t possibly mess anything between Echo and me.”

She winced. Well, that really hurt. It was what she expected but fuck, it still cut her wide open.

She couldn’t say how much her face actually contorted with barely contained misery and pain but it must’ve been a pitiful look. Bellamy’s face fell and he reached over to take her hand in his. Electrified by his touch, Clarke’s hand froze in a claw-like shape but the slow circles he rubbed into the skin of her palm relaxed her enough to lightly wrap her fingers around his thumb instead. She sighed and looked at him, powerless to run away any further. She craved his touch and even though it would hurt like a mother later, she stayed put, looking at their joined hands with measured breaths.

“Echo and I aren’t back together.”

Clarke head snapped up.

Bellamy swallowed and looked down, gently swinging their hands between them.

“She wanted to and I thought about it,” he admitted into his feet. “But it wouldn’t be fair. To her—and to you.”

With his head still bowed, all Clarke could do was just stare at the top of his head, her mouth opening and closing without any words coming out or any input from her brain. _What was he saying?_

Bellamy raised his head and the raw, vulnerable expression on his face froze the blood in Clarke’s veins. He brought his free hand to Clarke’s cheek and cupped her jaw tenderly. Her eyelids fluttered and she nuzzled into his hand.

“We broke up because of you, Clarke,” Bellamy continued, voice low. “Because I had feelings for you that I couldn’t move on from. That job offer that made her move away, she got that a few months earlier, too, and she declined because of me but I realised that I didn’t want her to do that, that I wasn’t as serious about her as she was about me. We broke up then and the next time they asked, she took the job.”

Clarke stood there, stunned. She searched Bellamy’s face, not sure where he was going.

“But you said you gave up on one night stands because you didn’t want commitment,” she countered, remembering the night when it all started. What he’d said was the reason she proposed that disastrous arrangement in the first place, damn it!

Bellamy’s cheeks reddened a shade or two. “I know,” he admitted. “I—uh, I know. I entertained the idea of telling you everything, I really did. But then, you came in, saying how you weren’t ready for anything serious, how you just wanted some company. I thought, maybe I could play it slowly. Take you out sometimes, casually, and then we’d see what might happen.”

“Instead, I asked you to have sex with me,” she followed. Bellamy nodded.

“You also made me tell you what I wanted—and I thought, it _was_ what I wanted. I wanted to try, see what we could make of it.” He let out a weak chuckle and then looked at her. “I thought we had a good thing going there, you know? That maybe we could take it further.”

“We did,” Clarke agreed sadly. “But I got scared. And confused. I didn’t know what I was feeling, or you,” she shook her head. “And then, when Echo came back, I got jealous,” she admitted.

Bellamy ran a thumb over her cheekbone and it was only then that Clarke realised a tear escaped her. She closed her eyes for a moment, wishing them away.

“I mean, we weren’t together, you know. We agreed we’d only be doing it till we found someone else and I thought you did.”

“And you decide to end it?” Bellamy asked.

Clarke huffed a humourless laughter. “That was hardly a decision. I was just pissed. Frustrated. I’d been going out and I thought you hadn’t noticed, and it stung, to think you didn’t pay attention.” She inhaled. “I thought you were pulling away and I lashed out.”

“And I didn’t say anything, when you challenged me,” Bellamy guessed.

“That was horribly manipulative of me, wasn’t it?”

He shook his head. “No,” he insisted, looking her straight in the eye. “We weren’t communicating well back then. I thought things were going great, that we were, well, happy together. But instead, you were struggling and I was an idiot.”

“I think it’s safe to say we both were.”

Bellamy sent her a crooked half-smile and for a moment, they just looked at each other. Clarke smiled back at him weakly.

“Is that why you’d been pulling away? Because you needed to process this? Because Clarke, you’re my best friend, I—“

She groaned involuntarily and dropped her head, her forehead landing on his sternum. There it was again, his best friend.

“What’s wrong?” he asked immediately, a little panicked. But Clarke couldn’t quite look him in the eye. Bellamy had feelings for her, wasn’t that what he’d said? As in, in the past? She just wanted to crawl away and curl into a ball somewhere in the corner, and not just stand there, sensitive to the slightest disruption like an exposed nerve. But they’ve already shared so much—

“No,” she murmured, looking up. “I didn’t have to think about anything, Bellamy. I actually had it all figured out, that’s why I tried to push you away, to get you to move on.”

“I wouldn’t have done it, Clarke,” he interjected. “Because I know you. If you really wanted me out of your life, you would’ve said it to my face.” He cocked an eyebrow in challenge.

“That’s—well, true, actually,” she agreed with a watery chuckle. “Like I said, I got scared. I don’t know how to have proper, functional relationships. I’m constantly baffled by the fact that we’re still friends after all these years. Hell, we don’t even share that many interests, and yet you’re the only person that I truly enjoy spending my time with, who I always want around.”

She swallowed thickly. “I wanted you to choose me but I was too chicken-shit to actually tell you that. And I didn’t think I could take it, if you didn’t.”

“Clarke, I—“ Bellamy started. There was something desperately intense in his eyes and Clarke couldn’t let him go first. She had to tell him now or she might never do it.

“I love you, Bellamy,” she shot out, took a breath. “I’m in love with you. And I think I have been for a very long time.”

There was a silence for a while. Bellamy’s eyes searched her face and Clarke could’ve sworn they both stopped breathing. In fact, the only sounds around them were coming from the tv, where some teary power ballad was climbing towards its climax.

The corner of Clarke’s mouth twitched when the drums came in and she couldn’t tell any more if they were standing there for hours, or merely seconds. Her hand, still joined with Bellamy’s, tightened right at the same time that the guitar solo started and Bellamy moved, as if he’d been restarted with a jolt of electricity.

He surged forward, the hand still cradling her face tugging her closer. Clarke’s lips parted in surprise and when Bellamy pressed his lips against hers, she gasped into the kiss. The momentum of Bellamy’s move propelled the two of them towards the wall behind her, Clarke’s back landing against it hard. So hard, that she bit his lower lip, drawing the faintest taste of blood. That pulled a low growl from Bellamy, his hands let go of her for a moment, only to travel down to her waist. He dug his fingers into her sides, rough enough to leave bruises and Clarke had to break the kiss to breathe. She panted against him, her back still pressed to the wall and her lower half pushing forward, practically rubbing herself against Bellamy.

Towering above her, Bellamy put his forehead against hers for a second. Then, he kissed her temple, her cheekbone, the shell of her ear. Clarke moaned straight into his ear, put her hand on the back of his neck and redirected his lips back to hers, where she was burning with pent up desire.

The next time the broke away, they were both panting heavily.

“I’m so fucking in love with you,” Bellamy said, voice hoarse and low. She couldn’t even hide the proud grin at the knowledge that she’d done it to him.

Bellamy released his hold on her waist and instead wrapped his arms around her middle, keeping the hold loose. Clarke scratched her fingers over the back of his neck and hummed.

“It’s not gonna be easy,” she warned. “I still don’t know how to hold on to a relationship, how not to fuck it all up.”

Bellamy chuckled weakly into the crook of her neck.

“Yeah, I don’t know either,” he admitted. “But I don’t care. I love you.”

Clarke grinned, kissing the side of his head lightly. She’d never grow tired of hearing him say that.

Bellamy lead away a little, just enough to look at her.

“I’m not very good at going after what I want. I hardly ever think that I deserve it. But I’ll fight for you, for us. For as long as you’ll want me.”

Clarke dragged her hand from Bellamy’s neck to his face, the pads of her fingers tracing his freckles with feather-light touches. She waited for the dread to come, for the implications behind his words to overwhelm her, urge her to drop everything and run.

It never came. All she felt was anticipation.

And love. Oh, so much love.

**Author's Note:**

> i hope you liked this! thank you so very much for reading. comments and kudos will be welcomed like manna ;-)  
> come and find me on tumblr @[carrieeve](https://carrieeve.tumblr.com).


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